


Five Linear Events in the Short-Lived Romance of Finn’s Parents

by magique



Category: Storm Hawks
Genre: Angst, Drabble Sequence, F/M, Family, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-02
Updated: 2009-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magique/pseuds/magique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles about Finn's parents—how they meet and how they part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Linear Events in the Short-Lived Romance of Finn’s Parents

**Author's Note:**

> We hadn't heard anything about Finn's past when I wrote this, and Commander Scar/Scarface/Chicken Feather (AKA Cyclonian #2) of episode 35 just screamed Finn's dad to me what with his appearance and his tendency to fail at life. And, yeah, this is what happened.  
> I've named Finn's mum Rosella and Commander Chicken Feather Finnegan. And I really need to stop focusing on canon characters' parents so much. (But, hey, first SH fic! 'Bout freaking time!)

i)

It’s probably lucky that Rosella notices him first because if Finnegan had anything to do with it, he’d have said something stupid and ruined everything.

As it is, Rosella is the one who pushes her way through the small diner and drops into the seat across from him at his table.

“Is this seat taken?”

Finnegan opens his mouth to respond and gifts her with a disgusting view of his lunch. When he realises, he blushes and lifts his hand. “Uh...no?”

Rosella grins and picks a fry off his plate.

She writes her number on his napkin before she leaves.

ii)

Dating Finnegan feels slightly like housetraining a new puppy, but Rosella’s mother once said that it was _meant_ to feel like that.

She had just never realised it would be so hard.

Rosella thinks she’s finally getting somewhere with him when he asks her to marry him after dinner at a nice restaurant. Butterflies flitter through her stomach when he kneels before her.

“I want to marry you,” he says and opens the small box.

The surprised gasp dies on her lips. “Finnegan,” she groans, “did you check to see if there was a ring inside when you bought it?”

iii)

Finnegan’s fingers follow her guidance easily, finding her clitoris, and, _oh_, she’s finally found something he can do right.

His other hand draws invisible, soft swirls across her shoulder blade and it causes shivers along her spine.

When he pushes inside her, it’s slow and cautious, but she still groans. It hurts, just a little, not enough to want him to stop but he does anyway.

He looks awkward, unsure, so she lifts her hands to his face and holds his jaw steady as she kisses him.

He strokes her hair when they part; murmurs, “You’re beautiful.”

The butterflies return.

iv)

It’s a month after he leaves when the weight begins to pile on and her abdomen begins to swell.

He said he was fighting Cyclonia when they met, but when Rosella receives the letter it comes with an insignia that she recognises too well for it to be true. She hadn’t had morning sickness before the news, but after it she throws up every morning for a week.

It’s difficult to tell if it’s because of what the letter says or what it shows.

Finnegan died _for_ Cyclonia’s cause, not fighting against it.

Rosella loves him too much to care.

v)

The midwife places the screaming infant in Rosella’s arms. “He’s handsome already,” she says. “What do you think you’ll name him?”

Rosella pushes her sweaty hair off her face and stares down at her new son. His hair pale and his eyes are blue and she knows she’s already fallen in love—even if a part of her desperately wishes he could meet his father, just once, and know that he’s a good man.

She lets him grasp her finger tightly with a tiny hand, his face squished and eyes almost crossed in concentration, and smiles.

“I think … Finn.”

 non-linear)

“Make arrangements to have my wife informed of my death.”

“But, sir, you—”

Slamming a hand against his desk, Finnegan growls, “_Tell her_.”

The man—who will probably be his superior in a few years if things don’t change—nods stiffly and leaves.

Finnegan sighs, rubbing fingers against the still-fresh wound on his cheek that almost _did_ kill him. He’d failed. He _always failed_. Even _proposing_, he’d failed and Rosella deserves better from her husband.

“She deserves better.” He murmurs it, testing how it sounds on his tongue. It fits.

He won’t return until that’s exactly what she’ll get.


End file.
